it
happens
all the time
The deli butcher went berserk last night
kicking over shelves of escargot;
rigadoon across the cheeses
a polka among apricots
ersatz waltz with the waitress
(whom he’d secretly loved).

For an encore

he chose softshoe on the counter top
and sang to the terrified wench:
“Come with me and taste the town!”
as he danced atop beef tongue and liver
“My meat is much sweeter than these!”